


Spun Sugar

by ilija



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daycare, F/M, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilija/pseuds/ilija
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thank you for making my board look super pretty, Ishida-kun! Wait, I told you that you’d get a sticker for your hard work.” She scrounges in her activity folder before Ishida can even formulate a protest. She sticks a gold star right over his left breast pocket. “Ta-da! A gold star for all your hard work.”</p><p>He sounds touched when he answers, in a breath, “Thank you, Inoue-sensei.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spun Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> My first Bleach longfic--surprisingly, it's not Ichiruki! But I fell in love with this idea after talking with friends and somehow managed to write so much of this even I'm shocked... nothing but whimsical fluff to be found here.

“Okay! It looks like I have… fifteen popsicles! How many of you are there today?”

“Twelve!” A hand pops up from the group of kids clustered around Orihime. “Hiro is absent today.”

“And if there’s twelve of you, and fifteen popsicles, how many will I have left over?”

“Three!” Another voice calls from the back. Ever proud, Orihime beams and holds out the small box towards the children, who immediately rush forward in a mob of excited hands.

“Right! So today we get ice cream with our math problems. And remember!” Orihime calls out to the kids eagerly tearing open the wrapper. “We’ll have three left! I’ll know if you took one more. And don’t forget to pick up your paper!”

Humming to herself, Orihime plops down on the ground, skirt and apron and box of treats and all, watching the kids scatter and play around the playground. She tears open her own popsicle and starts eating it—before it melts and all, not like she’s wanting to eat all three during the thirty minute break she has during outside time.

Orihime takes a bite of her popsicle thoughtfully, wondering how she’ll make this lesson more interesting to a bunch of sugar-fueled seven year olds when she notices the door open to the building next door. Orihime has worked here for nearly three years and never once has she seen someone leave or enter (though customers definitely come and go). She doesn’t even know what sort of offices are there. Intrigued and with the popsicle still half in her mouth, she watches the figure stride to his car and set his briefcase inside, pausing to set a coffee mug down on his trunk and adjust his tie.

His and Orihime’s eyes meet.

Orihime’s watch beeps. It’s fifteen till one. She assumes it’s lunch time. _Perfect._

Rising to her full height, Orihime practically bounces to the edge of the property, toting her box under one arm and against one hip to wave at the man. “Hello! Excuse me! Yoohoo!”

He freezes. Visibly. Even from fifty feet away.

“Hi! I’m Inoue-sensei, I work here. The ice cream truck was here earlier, do you want an extra?” She pulls out one of the wrapped popsicles and waves it in his direction. For a moment he doesn’t reply and Orihime wonders if she should try again.

Then he gets in his car and backs out so fast he forgets his coffee mug and it shatters against the pavement. Orihime laughs for so loud and long the ice cream starts melting in her hold.

\--

They have ice cream and math every Wednesday. Next week there’s only one extra, and the man is there again.

Orihime’s not really hungry.

“Hello!” She starts again, waving the ice cream. “I have another extra.”

Again, he freezes, but this time he looks straight on at her. The sunlight glints off his glasses as he adjusts them. “Do I know you?”

“Nope,” Orihime responds, smile still broad, “but you should! I’m Inoue-sensei, and—“

“You work there.” The man’s eyes are now visible, sharp, and he tucks a thick lock of hair behind his ear. Nose upturned, he continues, “And today is ice cream math day. Three o’ clock is outside time again.”

“Wow, you’re really observant!” Orihime has stars in her eyes. Ishida just seems fed up.

“I only know because your pupils start screaming whenever they see their parents.”

“They’re my children!” Orihime’s pride in her students is shameless. “And your ice cream is melting, come get it!”

He doesn’t budge. “It’s not mine.”

“It’s yours because I said it is.”

“You’re not my teacher.”

“I am _the_ teacher!” Cheeks red, she blows a stream of air upwards, her bangs fluttering. “Are you gonna take it or not?”

“No. It’ll ruin my lunch.” But he ducks his head under and gets into the car, hiding his face as he pretends to fiddle with his seatbelt, and Orihime _knows_ she didn’t miss the redness at the tips of his ears. The gears in her mind crank and whirr as she eats the melting ice cream until one child tugs at her apron and tells her ice cream is running down her arm.

\--

The next week the flu knocks out a good five members in the class so the box feels heavier against her hip as Orihime once more waves at the man over the fence.

“Yoohoo!”

“Will you please address me properly for once?” He sounds wearier instead of mad. In her mind Orihime high-fives herself.

“But I don’t even know your _name_ , how am I going to give ice cream to a total stranger? That’s a terrible example for a teacher to set,” She teases and he visibly bristles, turning his gaze away under the pretext of fixing his glasses.

“Ishida. Uryuu.”

“Okay. Ishida-kun!” Orihime calls at her original volume, making Ishida jump. “I have ice cream for you today!”

Ishida’s fingers twitch when he takes the damp pack from Orihime. He starts to unwrap and it almost looks dainty to Orihime. She can’t help but note how nice his hands are, angular as cut marble, long and pretty, and his fingers wrap around the stick of the ice cream as one would the stem of a wine glass as he raises it to his mouth.

Orihime sips at a drip of cherry syrup and hums absentmindedly.

“Inoue-sensei!” Ishida visibly shrinks when the little girl bounds up to Orihime. “I got a splinter.” She looks about ready to burst into tears, as does Ishida. He’s never been good around kids much less crying kids.

Orihime, on the other hand, springs into action. “Oh no! Here, Ishida-kun, hold this,” she shoves her own popsicle at Ishida.

On reflex he takes it, staring in bizarre fascination. “Uh.” Orihime is eye level with the girl in an instant, cradling the smaller hand in her own. “Hm, you know when Sleeping Beauty hurt her finger on the spindle? Remember when we read that today?” She receives a sniffle and a nod.

“I bet it hurt a lot more than this!” On the last word Orihime takes hold of the sliver of wood between her fingernails, tugging it out from the girl’s finger in a motion so quick Ishida blinks and misses. “Ta-da!” She holds it up in triumph.

“Wow, Inoue-sensei, it didn’t hurt a bit!” The child stares in awe, as does Ishida. Orihime flicks the bit of wood away and pats the little girl on the head, reassuring her to not play near the splintering part of the sandbox, and shoos her off.

“That was. Amazing?” Ishida’s voice raises in inflection as his voice peters out. Taking the popsicle back from Ishida’s hand, Orihime leans back against the fence, arms crossed.

“Hm, nothing I don’t do every day. Splinters are easy, it’s the boo-boos you have to worry about.”

Still at a loss for words, Ishida blinks, incredulous, and takes a bite of his own treat. In the distance a child yells.

“Sooo, Ishida-kun,” Orihime waves her popsicle, “What kind of work do you do over there? I’ve been here for three years and never could figure it out.”

Ishida steps away from any stray cherry droplets that would stain his shirt. “We sell mechanical parts.”

“Oh, like cars and stuff?”

“More like robotics. For hospitals and universities.”

Ishida’s eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline when Orihime leans in and over the fence, her face bright with interest. “Wow, you sell parts for robots?”

“S-something of the… sort, yes,” Ishida fumbles.

Orihime balls up her fists and bounces on her toes, ponytail bobbing. “That’s amazing! Today is career day and several kids wanted to be a scientist. Me, I wanted to be a robot when I was younger!”

“How kind of you to appeal to their sensibilities.” Ishida actually smiles before he realizes Orihime isn’t joking. “Wait, you’re serious.”

“Totally,” she nods, “but teaching here is the next best thing, I think.”

“It’s very… commendable that you would give up a dream like that to teach children.” Ishida is more often than not mistaken as snide but underneath his comment Orihime can hear genuine admiration. She blushes and fiddles with her fingers and Ishida still stands, unaffected even as he takes a bite of lemon ice.

“W-well, you know, teachers are a limited supply so, you know, why not!”

“Good teachers, at least. I was very impressed by how you handled that situation a minute ago.”

“Do you not like kids, Ishida-kun?” Orihime pouts and sticks her popsicle in her mouth.

“Not particularly.”

“But you would never be mean to them, right?” This time, the tone in her voice clearly reads _if you say yes I’ll knock the popsicle sideways down your throat_.

“Of course not,” Ishida answers sincerely, even softening his tone to convince her, and that seems to please her enough because the smile is back, wider than ever and showing her cherry stained teeth.

“I figured you wouldn’t. You definitely don’t come off like that. I think you aren’t a mean guy at all, Ishida-kun.” He freezes. “Maybe just shy?”

“I have to go, my—lunch hour is over,” Ishida trips on his own heels to face away, the remnants of his popsicle tossed to the side as he speedwalks away.

Orihime checks her watch. “Huh? It’s only been fifteen minutes. Ishida-kun!” The sound of his office door closing makes her frown. Then she notices his car.

“And you left your briefcase!”

\--

The next Wednesday it rains. Orihime spends a good few minutes pouting at the window before turning to the class and announcing excitedly that they were all going to read instead. The only one who hurries faster to the circular carpet by the bookcase is Orihime herself.

Reading to the kids is always the best. Orihime loves losing herself in a book, no matter how small, and especially so when reading to the children, who without fail would always giggle at her over the top acting and sound effects. (There’s still a mark on the wall from when she was imitating the gruff troll under the bridge and knocked her foot a good one.)

Today, she chooses a book on a stubborn kitten who refuses to eat his vegetables. “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t eat his vegetables! They’re one of my favorite food groups.”

“I wouldn’t eat green onions even if I was a cat, Inoue-sensei.”

“You’re right, because you would eat plenty of fish, wouldn’t you?” Orihime opens her book and begins.

By page four the kids are already enraptured and Orihime is sitting cross legged on the floor, pouting as the naughty kitten did at his dish, when story time is interrupted. Thirteen heads turn to watch as Ishida steps in, looking terribly lost.

Orihime blurts, “Ishida-kun!” and freezes him in his tracks. She scrambles to her feet, book still open, and throws her arms up. “What a nice surprise! Everyone, this is Ishida-san, and he works next door to us. He sells robot parts.”

Ishida blushes and flattens his lips as the kids ooh and aah and greet him collectively. “They’re… parts for machines,” he mumbles. “I don’t mean to intrude—“

“Never, you’re actually just in time for story time.” Orihime’s eyes glitter at the hidden implication and Ishida is a bit afraid.

“It’s alright, Inoue-sensei, I’ve just come to check on your computer system.” Her disappointment settles across her face like a rock and he backpedals. “Ah, but I also—robot parts,” he splutters. Orihime is taken aback by his verbal fumbling. Even as he clears his throat and readjusts himself, she thinks he’s cuter when he doesn’t know what to say.

Ishida sets a small contraption on one of the kids’ tables. It’s metal, glinting under the harsh fluorescents, and there are a small series of buttons on the side. Orihime steps across the small sea of children to take a better look.

“Is it a box?” Clutching her book under her arm, she gingerly takes the piece and turns it around in her fingers, careful not to let her nails catch.

“No, it’s a bit more intricate.” Their fingers brush when Ishida takes it in his own hands and Orihime almost jolts. Almost. “It’s a clock.”

Well, it did have a digital display-- “But aren’t those lasers?”

Ishida presses a button and suddenly a red dot appears on Orihime’s cheek. “Yes. But not real ones.”

Suddenly the class is in uproar, scrambling to crowd around the table to look at the mysterious clock. “It’s like in a spy movie!”

“I know!” Orihime affirms, sitting in one of the lower children’s seats to hold the clock in her cupped palms and showing it to her class. “Do you think it runs on sun power or electric power?”

One little girl points to the small paneling on top. “Sun!”

“So where should we put it?” The entire class pipes up, trying to be the first one to mention ‘ _the window! The window_!’ and Orihime’s grin brightens tenfold when she sets the little box on the window.

“Well, today the clock won’t work because there’s no sun, but that just means tomorrow we’ll have a big surprise to look forward to, won’t we?” She faces Ishida, skirt twirling as she turns, the invitation in the ‘we’ not missed by Ishida. But he raises his pretty hands to smooth his hair back and his shirt down and starts backing away.

“I would love to, but I really just came here to fix the computers.” He bows to the kids, “Thank you for having me,” and shuts the door behind him quickly but quietly. Orihime frowns and crosses her arms.

“What a no-fun haver…” she murmurs, disappointed. Nonetheless, she has a book to finish, so she throws out her arms and says, “Last one to the carpet doesn’t get to play with the laser clock tomorrow!”

The next day the sun shines and the clock face glows a beautiful blue color, a lovely color to see in the spring atmosphere. Of course she lets all of the children press the laser button, but she herself doesn’t, to drawn into her own thoughts of Ishida’s fingers cradling the clock in his pretty hands.

(I wonder if they’re like a marble statue, cold and stuff?)

\--

The following Wednesday Orihime wakes at five and joins Tatsuki at the gym. Immediately she drags Tatsuki over to the punching  bags and begins an unending barrage of focused punches right in the center.

“Geez, Hime,” Tatsuki peeks out only to duck back a minute later when Orihime narrowly misses the bag, “do you have a lot of conferences today or something?”

“Nope, that was last week,” She pants.

“Did you have the nightmare about the kid shitting his pants again?”

“Tatsuki-chan!” Orihime looks like she’s about to cry and lands a hit so hard it makes Tatsuki grunt. “Don’t be so _loud_!”

“I still think that story’s funny,” Tatsuki rolls her eyes and adjusts her stance. “Seriously, what’s up? You’ve been acting all dazed for the past few days and now you’re like the fists of fire or something.”

 _Whack_! “I’ve had a lot on my mind. Well, a lot of one thing.”

 _Whap_! “Oh no, it’s a boy isn’t it?”

Miss. Right on the mark. “Not just _any_ boy!”

“Ooh, has Hime found her prince?” Tatsuki smirks and leans against the bag as Orihime pants and fans her flushed face.

“I think he’s an office worker for robots.”

A beat passes. “He w—“

“He works in an office and sells parts for robots, isn’t that the coolest?” Orihime glows even as she sweats and blushes, and not just from exertion. As usual, Tatsuki trips over her own mental feet to keep up with Orihime’s train of thought. She raises her hands gestures toward Orihime in a _slow down_ motion.

“So you met a guy who’s an office worker that sells machine parts.”

“Well when you put it like _that_ —“

“Sounds kinda boring, Hime,” Tatsuki winces when Orihime pouts. Unscrewing the top off her water bottle, Tatsuki straightens, continuing, “So is he like cute or something?”

“He’s _gorgeous_!” Orihime practically bursts at the seams. Tatsuki feels like she’s going blind from the glare coming off of her. “He says hello to me every Wednesday even though he’s super shy and just last week he brought in a cool solar-powered clock for the classroom, it’s on the window now, and he’s so princely. He has the _nicest_ face and hands and hair,” Orihime practically swoons against the punching bag. Out of Orihime’s vision Tatsuki fake gags. “I really like him, Tatsuki-chan.”

“Does he know?”

“Oh, probably,” Orihime bites her lip, ducking her chin to her chest. “I’m really obvious, aren’t I, Tatsuki-chan?”

“You are, but that just makes you my Hime,” Tatsuki shrugs, nonchalant, and Orihime breathes a sigh of relief.

“Now I just wonder if he likes me back. He really is super shy.” Picking up her towel, Orihime tags alongside Tatsuki to the locker room. “I feel like I might scare him off if I ask him out.”

“So then do like you should do to most small animals, let him come to you.”

“You’re really smart Tatsuki-chan.”

“Make him crawl to you on his knees,” A mischievous smirk accompanies an exaggerated eyebrow waggle and Orihime’s squeal echoes across the locker room.

After showering and stopping for a bite of breakfast on her way to work, Orihime walks up to the center at the same time as Ishida pulls up to his office. It’s still pretty dark at this time of dawn, so Orihime is genuinely shocked to see him.

The shock fades into excitement as she bounds up the walk. “Good morning, Ishida-kun!”

Ishida spits his coffee back into his cup.

She meets him halfway across his parking lot, folder of activity plans tucked underneath her arm. “I never see you here at this time.”

“Y-yes, well, I couldn’t sleep. So I decided to come in and see if I have any work to do.”

“So you don’t have work to do at the moment?”

“Not in particular, no, but that’s why I came here to—“ Ishida’s words evolve into an ungraceful yelp when Orihime grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him toward the center. “Inoue-sensei!”

“I have to set up a bulletin board and I need someone strong to move the bookcase,” a lie, considering she rearranges the whole classroom monthly by herself, “and I thought you’d like to check up on James Bond-kun.”

“—excuse me?”

The class had unanimously decided on James Bond-kun as the nickname for their newest window decoration. One pupil had placed a Doraemon figure on top of the device, a satellite if you will, and for the past week Orihime has been unable to keep her eye off of it during her spare moments. Even now she smiles, her stomach fluttering when Ishida looks as well, his expression almost fond.

“So!” Orihime drops her folder onto one of the tables and puts her balled fists on her hips. “Ready to pretty this space up?”

“Will moving this bookcase pretty it up?” Ishida resigns with a sigh and rolls up his sleeves.

“Yup, because I’m going to use this space for the kids’ weather reports.” Orihime lugs a step stool out from under the sink and unfolds it, stepping up and starting to pluck old decorations off. “This unit is weather so we’re learning about light and sound and the clouds. Do you remember your clouds, Ishida-kun?”

Ishida scoots the bookshelf as directed. “Most likely. I was very good in school.”

“I could totally tell that,” Orihime giggles. “Okay, what are the big puffy cotton ball clouds?” She unwinds a streamer.

“Cumulus.”

“Yup!” Orihime’s ponytail sways when she turns to give Ishida a thumbs up. His nostrils flare and he pushes the shelf against the wall. “Now… storm clouds.”

“Cumulonimbus.”

“Yeah! Okay, one last one…” Orihime presses her tongue to her top lip as she thinks. Ishida shoves the shelf away from the board right as Orihime snaps her fingers. “Okay! What’s the formula for axial strain?”

“The strain equals the original length divided by the change in length.” He doesn’t miss a beat and dusts off his hands. Orihime finishes dumping the old decorations to the ground and grins at the other.

“Great job today, Ishida-kun, I’ll be sure to put a happy face on your briefcase.” She laughs and Ishida looks like he bit into bad sashimi.

“I appreciate the thought, but no thanks.” Orihime begins stapling word boxes and yarn denoting the steps in the water cycle, almost forgetting that Ishida is standing there.

“Oh, thank you for your help Ishida-kun. I’m sorry to pull you aside like that but I got so excited.”

“It’s—fine, Inoue-sensei, really, I know how busy you are as a teacher. Would you—“ He stops, Orihime stops unraveling the ball of yarn and looks at him, unwavering. He offers his hand, not to her but to the bulletin board, and Orihime almost feels jealous until he asks, “Would you like help with this too?”

Her heart throbs at the blush underneath his eyes. “Of course! You know your clouds, so you can definitely help.” She shoves a bag of cotton and a small bottle of glue into his arms, almost knocking the breath out of him. “You can make the clouds look pretty!”

“I-I’ll do my best, Sensei,” Ishida wheezes and tries to straighten out.

The next several minutes are filled with nothing but the click of the stapler and Orihime’s sporadic humming of the morning news theme. The board is barely halfway done but it looks excellent, if she does say so herself. Ishida certainly has a flair for design, thinning and placing all of his cotton perfectly. Orihime’s never seen such pretty clouds until she met Ishida.

His fingertips are sticking to the board as he glues the cotton, and when Orihime tacks the words onto the cork and paper she brushes her hands over the tacky places he leaves behind. She loses herself in the task, Ishida’s task, watching his fingers dip and tug and play with the white cotton.

A sudden longing fills her throat. “Ishida-kun.”

Their eyes meet for the first time that day. Ishida’s actually looking at her over his glasses, and his eyes are sharper, clearer without a thick layer of glass between them. “Inoue-sensei.”

How easy it would be to reach out and lay her fingers across those white boned digits splayed out against the blue board! But it’s too early. She thinks, don’t move too fast or else you’ll slip, and instead says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Your clouds looks really good.”

He smiles. Orihime’s palms sweat. The pads of her fingers leave damp spots near Ishida’s previous ones when she staples the final word up on the board. “All done!”

“It looks very nice. You have an eye for organization, Sensei.”

“I just think to myself, if I can’t read it well, then the kids won’t be able to. That’s a lot of my criteria!” Orihime beams.

“It’s truly a talent to be able to connect with kids on their level.” Orihime, flattered, waves off his compliment.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, really! They’re just people like you and me but younger and smellier.” Even with her attempt at brushing his words off, Ishida’s expression doesn’t change.

“Really, Inoue-sensei, you’ve been here for three years and not once have I heard you raise your voice or act stern to any of these children. For someone like me, that’s very admirable. They’re very lucky to have an environment like this to grow up in.”

Orihime doesn’t know what to say. Her heart stutters and gallops in her chest and she can’t look away from Ishida, who is giving her such a resolute, sure look that she’s having a bit of trouble breathing.

“Ishida-kun—“

“Sensei!” Their reverie is broken when a chorus of kids tumble through the door. They scare the breath out of both Orihime and Ishida, but she quickly recovers and laughs while Ishida, frazzled, hurries to readjust his glasses. “We got _big_ posters so we had to come early.”

“Wow, did you make dioramas?”

“Yeah! Mom’s getting it out the car!”

“Be careful not to bump and break it!” Orihime calls down the hall after the kids run out. Stepping back in, she sighs and scrubs the back of her hand across her forehead, peeking at Ishida from under her arm. “Well, it looks like school is about to start.”

“Ishida-sensei?” Another student steps into the room. “Did you come say hi to James Bond-kun?”

Ishida steels his gaze. “James Bond-kun?”

The girl’s pigtails bob as she nods. “Yup, it’s the clock you gave us!” She points. “He gets scared so Doraemon watches guard at night.”

“There is no way Doraemon would be able to stand up to an adult intruder.”

“Yes he can! Doraemon could stick a crossbow into his pocket and pull it out when someone takes James Bond-kun and shoot him and kill him.”

“And we’re so glad Doraemon can help protect James Bond-kun, but Doraemon needs a break from guarding and can only do that when school starts,” Orihime gently turns the child toward the cubbies, “so go place your jacket and bag up so we can begin.” The little girl does as told and Orihime gives a fake stern pout to Ishida. “They don’t know Doraemon isn’t real, Ishida-kun.”

“Isn’t it better not to lie to them?”

“It’s _imagination_!” Orihime sounds shocked. “Ishida-kun, I really am going to have to rope you into story time today.”

Ishida holds up his hand to stop her. “I can’t.” Her face falls and he immediately splutters, “I-I just have a conference today, it’s nothing against you, Sensei.”

(But does that mean he would go some other time?)

“That’s fine, I bet you’re super busy with all the robots. Thank you for making my board look super pretty, Ishida-kun! Wait, I told you that you’d get a sticker for your hard work.” She scrounges in her activity folder before Ishida can even formulate a protest. She sticks a gold star right over his left breast pocket. “Ta-da! A gold star for all your hard work.”

He sounds touched when he answers, in a breath, “Thank you, Inoue-sensei.”

When he waves back to her as he leaves the office that afternoon, the gold star glints over his chest twinkles in the sun and Orihime doesn’t blink when it hurts.

\--

The next Wednesday is lunch from a bag and no ice cream because they take a trip to the university’s museum. This week they learn about gravity, because what makes rain fall to the earth after all?

Herding thirteen kids is doubly complicated when there are shiny things about for them to touch and by the second hour there Orihime can barely catch her breath. Luckily lunch puts them right at the airplane play place and Orihime is grateful to have a place to sit down and just watch.

Unfolding her map, Orihime notices the next part involves the gift shop and mentally steels herself for the task of having to make sure no fingers get sticky with the mood rings. She almost considers just hiding out in the basement cafeteria for the rest of the recess until she notices a small group of men talking across the room.

One of the men is Ishida.

He’s dressed in a lab coat that makes his hair stand out even starker against his skin and the light and he seems to be explaining something to the other two, outlining notes on a clipboard. She calls out, “Ishida-kun!” before realizing her mistake and quickly claps her hands over her mouth, turning away from him.

From the corner of her eye she sees Ishida freeze for a good five seconds before gesturing to the other men and, oh no, walking towards her.

“Sensei, I didn’t expect you here today.”

Sheepishly, she looks at him through her fingers. “M-me either.”

“I could almost say you’re following me.”

“I’m not a stalker!” Orihime sounds about to burst into tears. Ishida, stricken, apologizes quickly.

“I-it was just a joke, sensei. I don’t mind that you’re here. I’m just helping someone prepare a seminar.”

“He was my professor in my Engineering II class. The man with the watch.” She twirls a lock of hair around her finger and bites her lip, shyly waving back when the professor nods and smiles at her.

“Oh. He’s one of my business’s biggest collaborators. I donated some 3D printers, so that’s why I’m here.”

“Wow,” Orihime breathes, “you’re actually making me miss university, when I could get to see all that cool stuff.”

Ishida covers his snort with his hand. “Sensei, do you know this man?” One of the parent volunteers calls.

“This is Ishida Uryuu, we’re—“

“I work in the office next door to your children’s center,” Ishida politely cuts in for Orihime and bows. “I don’t mean to come off as rude or intrusive.”

“Not at all.”

“Would it be okay if I borrowed Inoue-sensei for a moment to show her the upcoming exhibit?” Orihime sputters.

“ _Ishida-kun_ —“

“I don’t see why not,” the volunteer shrugs, “you might even get a 3D copy of yourself, sensei.”

They don’t see the 3D printers. Instead, Ishida takes her to the bridge on the third floor overlooking the lobby. "It’s much quieter here.”

“Mmhm,” Orihime sounds and nods, swinging one leg back and forth. “I didn’t wanna be stuck in the gift shop anyway. The only thing more energetic than a kid with sugar is a kid with money.”

Ishida laughs, weary at the thought. “Even thinking about it makes me tired. I’m terrible with kids.”

“Yet here you are, talking to me, a daycare teacher.”

“Isn’t it funny how things work like that, Sensei?”

The silence between them grows more and more awkward as time passes. Once or twice they open their mouths to speak at the same time and immediately snap them shut. One of them has to say something but both of them are too nervous to speak.

It’s Ishida who finally does. “Sensei.”

“Ishida-kun,” she curls her fingers into her skirt.

“I don’t think—all of our meetings, I don’t think they happened by chance. After all, we’ve worked three years next to one another.” Orihime nods. “And I’ve just been—thinking.”

“James Bond-kun gets lonely, you know.” She blurts out and leaves Ishida, shocked, in silence.

Her eyes glitter as she continues on, “During lunch and while I look at everyone’s work… James Bond-kun has nobody to guard him but me. We put Doraemon back in the toybox during the day for others to play with.”

“Sensei—“

“And I know how he feels,” she doesn’t falter and brushes her hair behind her ear with a nervous hand, “because I get lonely too. During lunch when there’s nobody but me by myself watching the kids, or after school. Every single day. Except.” She bites her lip. “Except when it’s Wednesday and the ice cream truck comes during recess.”

Ishida’s gaze is softer than anything Orihime has seen or felt before. “Inoue-sensei…”

“I really like talking with Ishida-kun a lot, because even though you don’t like kids you still like me and talk to me even when they’re around, but I just wasn’t sure how to tell you, and then you started talking just then, and I had to say something. So, well, th-there it is,” her teeth clamp onto her lower lip when she finishes. She feels like she’s said too much, but also not enough, and looks at the ground as she absentmindedly braids a lock of her hair.

Then Ishida is holding her fidgety wrist in one hand, now only a step away and Orihime can smell his cologne. She doesn’t need to look up to know he’s looking at her too. Deft fingers curling around her own, he lowers her hand to her side and doesn’t immediately let go. “I figured out that much. You’re a bit too obvious, sensei.”

“I-I know.” Her blush is furious.

“But,” Ishida now bites his own lip, palm damp against Orihime’s despite the coolness of his skin, “I don’t think I’d be half as interested if you weren’t.”

He lets go, and Orihime almost pouts. “I’ve just been thinking,” he picks up where he left off, “Our meetings, they keep reoccurring and closer and closer together. Maybe we’re both destined to be present in each other’s’ futures in some way?”

Feeling like she could walk on the sun, Orihime smiles so wide her cheeks reach her eyes and she thinks Ishida looks very charming in his lab coat. “Does that mean you’ll visit more often in the future?”

Ishida smiles, this time a genuine one. “If you’ll be there, yes.”

Orihime begins plotting which story to read the next time Ishida pops in to fix computers.

(‘Fix the computers’, huh.)

\--

It’s the following Thursday, and there are only three kids left in the play area when Ishida steps out of his office. His sticker flashes in the sun and Orihime waves.

“Good afternoon, Ishida-kun!” Noticing her sensei, one of the other girls waves from her place in the sandbox. Orihime bounds up to meet him by the fence.

“Sell lots of robots today?”

“I sell pieces for robotic engineering, among other things,” he sounds so stuffy and Orihime covers her giggle in her arm. “Is James Bond-kun doing well.”

It’s phrased as a statement, but the redness of his ears and his averted gaze don’t fool Orihime. Feeling coquettish, she leans over and looks him in the eye. “Yes, but I’ve told you he gets super lonely with just me in the afternoon.”

He tries looking away, again. “…would you like help with papers this afternoon, sensei?”

“Only if you’ll join me for story time next week.” She could clap when she sees the telltale sign of resignation behind his eyes rolling.

“I… guess, if it’s not about cranky children and vegetables or so.”

“You’re gonna be in the same room as thirteen children who get cranky and hate vegetables so I can’t say I promise anything.”

“It’s better than having to listen to someone else tell a story about it.” He doesn’t say no.

Orihime, feeling accomplished, grins triumphantly at his answer. “Then I’d love your help this afternoon, Ishida-kun! Me and James Bond-kun both.”

They sit at the table underneath the window, both them and the clock warm from the late spring sun. Their fingers bump as they shuffle papers back and forth but, for the first time, they let each touch last a little bit longer.

Ishida leaves with another gold sticker to display, stuck on his cheek like a stamp to mark where Orihime touches his face as she bids him goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time writing Ishihime so if you liked it, lemme know. If you hated it, lemme know. If you're neutral, then just kudos I guess! Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless :)


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